


Stranger Than Earth

by eso (cazzy)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, Sexual Tension, Snark, Spiderman AU, and keith is obviously mary jane hello, dramatic gay boys, excessive sarcasm, lance is totally cocky enough to be spiderman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:31:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7484238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cazzy/pseuds/eso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance never expected to be granted weird, superhuman spider powers, but he's all for them if they'll help him beat Keith in... well, everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So [this motherfucker](https://twitter.com/kiseing) had an amazing [Spiderman AU idea](https://twitter.com/kiseing/status/748498583415054336) and I love her and I'm fulfilling it like the fic-writing trash that I am.
> 
> No regrets, right?

It goes like this: Lance is a bit of a sore loser.

Okay, that's an understatement. He's an _incredibly_ sore loser, if only because competition runs in his veins and the mere thought of losing to anyone in anything reminds him vividly of the run-down apartment he shares with his mother in the middle of Brooklyn's projects as she works herself to the bone to support them both. Failure means letting her down, and letting himself down, and it's unacceptable when scholarships are so goddamn competitive and the system is so fucked up that he'll never excel in society without the assistance.

It would be a lie to say that it isn't satisfying to hear his peers commenting on his prowess, too. There's something to be said about the fact that he studies hard to excel in classes, and soaking up the attention from people who misjudge him as an airheaded idiot _may_ contribute to his constant cockiness. (They're a fickle crowd, though, and for this reason Lance strives to never lose their recognition.)

Regardless of its origins, though, Lance's inability to recover gracefully from loss is notorious among his closest friends.

It's also why the very existence of Keith Kogane irks him so much: the teenager thinks he's perfect with his stupid haircut and stupid fingerless gloves, and he always manages to score on-par (or higher) with Lance in their classes as well as on the lacrosse field, and it always looks so goddamn effortless on Keith's part that Lance can't help but despise him.

The teen is also stupidly attractive, which is frustrating solely in that he seems to effortlessly command the attention of girls that should be looking at how charming _Lance_ is, not how standoffish Keith is. (And it's certainly _not_ something Lance would ever pursue, anyway. You're supposed to beat rivals, not fuck them.)

Keith is a constant thorn in his side, an unyielding threat to the world Lance has fought so hard to cultivate, and it makes his blood boil.

Which brings Lance to now: staring at the red 95 scrawled across the top of his pre-calc exam as the teacher explains that the highest score to set the curve was a 96 out of 100.

A 96.

And a 96 is definitely _not_ written on his test, which means that someone else in his class has scored higher than him. Lance looks around, a quick, narrow-eyed perusal at the classroom's occupants to determine exactly who has usurped his first place position, and his gaze falls on none other than Keith fucking Kogane.

He really should have known.

Keith is the bane of his existence, and the worst part about it is how he manages to wordlessly flaunt his seemingly endless talents over Lance's head.

There's only one thing to do, then, and Lance grabs his exam before scowling and moving over to where Keith is seated.

“You!” Lance says, a bit too loudly, as he points an accusing finger at Keith.

“Me,” Keith echos, looking up from the test resting on his desk. From this angle, Lance can see the score written across it, and he feels a pang of annoyance at confirming Keith's higher grade.

“You're going to turn yourself in for cheating, right?”

“I didn't cheat,” he says, sounding more surprised than angry at the accusation. It's far too mild of a response for Lance's tastes, and he slams his own test on top of Keith's with a huff.

“That's impossible! There's no way you could've gotten a higher score than me without resorting to unfair tactics,” Lance argues. And his accusation has to ring true – he'd studied his ass off for this exam, and _he_ should've been the one to set the curve.

“Look, Louis – ”

" _Lance –_ ”

“Lance – whatever – I don't cheat. Maybe you should study harder next time if you want to score higher than me.”

This isn't the first time they've butted heads about grades, and it certainly won't be the last. It's infuriating that Keith apparently doesn't even remember his name, because he's definitely Lance's arch nemesis, and his jaw aches with how hard his teeth are clenched at the words.

The bell rings before Lance can yell indignantly about the insult to his intelligence, though, and Keith shoves his desk away from him (and into Lance's stomach, _motherfucker)_ before grabbing his things and leaving the classroom.

Lance takes a moment to recover from Keith's attempt to impale him via school desk, and winces as the cute blonde girl that sits in front of him giggles a touch too condescendingly at him as he clutches at his aching stomach. Fucking Keith, ruining even his attempts at flirting with attractive classmates. Will nothing stop him?

Keith's score on the pre-calc test and subsequent nonchalance about besting him _again_ put Lance in a foul mood, and not even Hunk's self-deprecating humor during lunch can rouse him out of it.

 

–

 

Classes after lunch pass by quickly, and when the final bell rings, Lance grabs his skateboard from its position in the back of the classroom and makes his way through the bustling hallways.

His mom works a double shift at the diner on Wednesdays, and won't be home until after midnight, so once he makes it out of the school, Lance figures he'll grab a quick dinner out before heading home to study.

If his biggest character flaw is being a sore loser, then his biggest weakness is greasy cheeseburgers, but it's an imperfection he will willingly deal with when it grants such mouthwatering food. The meal he orders is unhealthy but delicious, and he relishes the taste. It's not exactly enough to make him forget about Keith and his stupid 96 percent, but Lance entertains himself by drawing a shoddy picture of the dark-haired teen in ketchup before promptly demolishing it with a handful of french fries.

He really _isn't_ a 12-year-old, no matter what Pidge says.

It's getting dark by the time he leaves the fast food joint, and Lance knows he'd be chewed out by his mother if she knew. He's lived in the projects for his entire life, and certainly knows how to scrap in a fight, but adding to her infinite worries really isn't on his priority list if it's avoidable.

At least he doesn't run the risk of getting caught, which is the only reason he tucks his board under his arm and moves back toward the housing project that he calls home. He's not in a hurry, after all, and maybe he can walk off the sulk that comes with the reminder of the crumpled up math test shoved in his backpack.

There seems to be some sort of argument between four men on the other side of the street as Lance walks, and he tugs his collar up to his chin and averts his gaze, focusing on moving away from the altercation as inconspicuously as possible.

Getting involved is a decidedly bad idea, and Lance can hear Pidge's voice in his head as she scolds him for his infamous nosiness, but as he walks past the group, the _curiosity killed the cat_ thing really does seem to hold a lot of water.

He's like a moth drawn to a flame, especially after one of the men yells loud enough for the word _quintessence_ to echo out over the empty street, and Lance isn't a complete idiot, people don't throw words like that around without a reason.

The fight is drug-related, then, which isn't terribly surprising given their location. One of the men, tall and broad-shouldered with a wicked-looking scar cut across the bridge of his nose, has his hands splayed in a gesture of surrender. The other men surrounding him spare him no mercy, though, as one shoves at him harshly and the others fan out aggressively.

Lance pauses, eyeballing the men from a safe distance away, and can't help but consider the possibilities. Maybe the scarred dude failed to pay for his drugs and is now being threatened to cough up the money? Or possibly they're all dealers, and buff-guy-with-strange-hair is taking a bigger cut from the profits than he's supposed to.

“Shit,” Lance mutters under his breath as he's drawn out of his imaginative thoughts by the escalating argument. Even from this far away he can tell that it's about to get physical, because the men are all posturing offensively and the tones of their voices are growing louder and angrier. The ones surrounding the scarred man reach into their coats, and instinctively Lance tenses.

Time seems to slow as he recognizes the weapons in their hands for what they are, and then two things happen simultaneously: he realizes that he's frozen in place just as one of the thugs turns and sweeps his gaze around the street – scoping for possible witnesses, he thinks as an arc of panic races down his spine – and spots him, and then there's a sharp barking order a split second before something whizzes past his head, too quick to see, and embeds itself into the wall behind him with a sharp _crack!_

Canarsie's not exactly the Upper East Side, but it's not usually a complete warzone, either. Lance has at least enough self-preservation to dart quickly for cover, but his heart's pounding a frantic tattoo against his ribcage as he realizes exactly how close that bullet had been to penetrating his skull instead of a brick wall.

When it comes down to a few inches between life and death, he knows he's in serious trouble.

“Shit,” he says again, because these thugs have _guns,_ and the adrenaline pumping through his body is shrieking at him to flee even as he considers the person who probably has several guns trained on him and is in clear need of assistance.

He's just a teenaged brat, though, and Lance can't help the flinch when another shot rings out, this one not aimed at him.

Abandoning the guy feels innately wrong, but Lance swallows down on the hesitation as a bullet shatters the glass of the bus stop advertisement he's hiding behind. Saving his own skin wins out over rescuing the poor bastard who obviously did _something_ to warrant getting shot, and Lance doesn't even bother hiding the loud _slap_ of his skateboard hitting the concrete as he steps onto it and kicks off the ground with as much force he can muster.

(Lance makes it home safely enough, all things considered, and all of the lights of their apartment are still off as he fumbles with trembling hands to unlock the door. He lies shock-still in bed when he finally hears his mother unlock the front door and quietly step inside, hoping she can't hear the ceaseless pounding of his heart through his closed bedroom door. Sleep is impossible to come by, and he can't close his eyes without envisioning the man hitting the pavement in a bloodied heap against the back of his eyelids.)

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter update is one chapter closer to [this](https://twitter.com/istehlurvz/status/748648796872118276) becoming a thing. And we all want that to become a thing.

Lance carries a certain restlessness with him for days, and the distraction of school proves to be an effective tool for recovery. His shoulders are still tense with the vivid reminder of mortality, but he throws himself wholeheartedly into academics, and it keeps his mind off of it, mostly.

He's in the middle of devouring one of his mother's homemade tamales when a hand clamps down on his shoulder, and Lance can't entirely contain the noise of surprise that slips past his lips.

"Did you just _scream_?" Hunk asks from behind him, and Lance turns to shoot him a glare.

"I absolutely _did not_ just scream," he says, willing his heart to stop beating so quickly. Fuck, he's never been this jumpy before. It's one part annoying, one part embarrassing, and he rolls his eyes as if wounded by Hunk's accusation.

“Very convincing denial,” his friend says, stressing the _e_ in _very_ in a supremely condescending manner.

“Hey, thanks!” he replies overbrightly. Hunk can't counter with another sarcastic comment if he feigns gratitude, right?

Hunk just snorts and starts eating his food. Lance doesn't understand how he manages to digest the cafeteria's food – if it could even be called that – so easily, but all evidence points toward him having an iron stomach. Lance does his best friend the honor of warning him about the potential poisons lurking in the school's “meat” loaf, and Hunk slaps his hand away from the food tray with a warning about touching food that isn't his.

Naturally, he proceeds to predict Hunk's death in the very near future as he laments about his fall from grace due to poisonous meatloaf, and things finally feel closer to normal again as a comfortable silence descends on the two of them while they eat.

“Hunk,” Lance says once his food is finished. “Is that Pidge talking to Keith?”

Hunk turns around in his seat to see where Lance is looking. “Uh, it looks like it. You know they're friends, right?”

“ _What?_ Since when?” This is a serious outrage. Maybe the two of them are far enough away that they're just mistaking Pidge for her brother?

“For... years? Seriously, you brag about being one of the smartest people in our year and you haven't noticed at all?”

Of course he hadn't! He, unlike Pidge, apparently, has a loyalty to his friends involving a wordless agreement to _not_ consort with a friend's archenemies.

“That _traitor._ ”

As if to confirm Lance's intense feelings of betrayal, he watches as Pidge stands up on her toes and wraps her arms around Keith's shoulders in a hug. Lance affixes an affronted expression onto his face and crosses his arms in an intimidating gesture as she moves away from Keith and walks over to their table.

“What exactly was _that_ , Miss Holt?”

Hunk disguises his laugh with a cough, and Lance privately adds him to the list of former-friends-turned-traitors.

“Not today,” Pidge says, and Lance wants to pursue it but something about the tone of her voice brooks no argument. He's been trying a little harder than usual to keep up with the cocky bravado (mostly because if he lets the shields drop then all he can think of is a bullet piercing his skull) but definitely not at the cost of upsetting his friends.

“Whoa, is everything okay?” he asks.

“I'm fine. It's probably nothing, don't worry,” she responds, and then she's digging in her backpack for her lunch.

“Are you sure? It can't be good if you're giving hugs to that punk.”

“ _Lance,_ ” she says, and _there's_ the huff of annoyance in her voice that he's used to, so he drops it.

He does shoot a look at Hunk, though, who shrugs to silently say that he, too, has no idea what's going on. He'll drop it for now, but something seems off about Pidge. It's obviously related to whatever she was talking to Keith about, and he thinks that maybe he'll go and harass him about it soon.

 

–

 

The next day of school promises excitement, at least. Their biology class is headed on a field trip to Galra Labs, and Hunk is positively _obsessed_ with the idea that the biomedical laboratory has invested billions of dollars into cross species experimentation, so they've agreed to investigate as best as they can once they arrive.

Pidge calls them both idiots, but she's in an advanced science class that isn't going on the trip, and Lance doesn't need that kind of negativity in his life, anyway.

The bus ride takes forever, like they often do when headed toward an unknown destination, and Lance watches as the world passes them in a blur of bustling New York streets. Galra Labs is apparently located smack-dab in the middle of Manhattan, in a much richer area than anyone from Altea High is used to, and Lance feels a twinge in his heart as they disembark. Someday, he swears, he'll earn enough money to get a place for his mamá to live comfortably here. Just one more year of high school and then college, and she won't ever have to worry about working her ass off just to make ends meet again.

Their guide for the trip is some tall, severe-looking guy named Sendak, and Lance's class is barely in the door when Hunk not-so-subtly sidles up to him.

“So we're ditching this group as soon as possible, right?” Hunk says as they all step inside the enormous building. The lobby is huge, but busy, and this isn't Lance's first rodeo. Escaping from their teacher's range of view has always been ridiculously easy, and although Sendak is tall and keeps sweeping his gaze over the group, he shouldn't present _too_ much of a challenge.

Lance shoots him a grin. “Of course.”

It's easier than they thought it would be to give the tour guide the slip – he's quickly overwhelmed by the attitudes of their hellish class group, and their teacher is too busy apologizing profusely for the potential havoc that forty kids from working class neighborhoods could cause.

“Alright,” he says once they're down a vacant hallway. “Which floor do you think is most likely to contain weird experimentation?”

Hunk hums. “I'm tempted to think it would be on the higher floors, which are probably only accessible by employees, but – ”

“But the best place for cross-breed experimenting is underneath the building, right?”

“You've read my mind,” he grins. “Creepy basement floors are perfect for such a thing.”

It only takes a few minutes to locate a stairwell, after that, and they quickly begin their descent. Hunk adamantly declares that the lowest floor is the most suspicious, and they finally exit the stairs on a floor labeled B4.

The hallway they find themselves in seems to have the appropriate mad scientist aesthetic they're looking for, and they investigate all possible entrances for places to check out.

“Hey, check this out,” Hunk says, waving him over. “This door has a card reader for access, but it looks busted.”

“Weird,” Lance says, and jiggles the closed door's knob on a whim. Surprisingly, the door yields, and opens. “Even weirder, but also convenient.”

“You check this one out, I'll keep an eye out for any employees.”

“I'll grab you if there's anything worth seeing,” he promises, and slips inside quietly after watching Hunk round the corner to stand guard.

The room is incredible. Lance isn't as tech-savvy as Pidge is, but he knows his way around a computer, and the technology available within this lab is like nothing he's ever seen before. There's some sort of exhibit in the middle of the lab where hundreds of spiders are crawling, but above them is a complex holographic screen scrolling through calculations and data that even Lance's sharp mind can't comprehend at first glance.

It seems fully equipped with chemicals, test tubes, microscopes, and other various lab materials, and wrapped around the perimeter of the room are extensive, top of the line computers. Moving toward the middle of the room, he squints down at the display of spiders.

They're incredibly active, crawling over the hills that have been formed within the terrarium. Lance is struck by the peculiar colors of the arachnids as they move – no two spiders have a similar design, and the bright, vivid colors don't look natural but almost phosphorescent as they skitter around. He's captivated by them for the briefest of moments before he tilts his head to look at the holographic feed still scrolling wildly above the spiders.

Hunk definitely needs to see this, if only for the tech.

Lance turns to see where he's wandered off to, eager to explore the room with Hunk now that they've found something interesting, and slams directly into a hard, unyielding body.

He curses loudly, because _fuck,_ he nearly bit clear through his lip at the impact, and he's about to look up to see who he ran into before his stomach lurches. His momentum is completely off because of the collision, he realizes too late, and his arms pinwheel wildly in an attempt to his balance, but the instinctual attempt backfires as he overcorrects and topples directly into the spider exhibit.

Bracing for impact against the glass of the display as he falls into it, Lance is entirely surprised when it never comes. He's still fallen into the terrarium, that's clear from the frantic scuttling of oddly-colored spiders away from his body, but it appears as though the material enclosing the spiders is a bizarre mixture of solid and hologram tech, because he is blessedly _not_ pierced through with sharp shards of glass.

It's unbelievable, and Lance takes a moment to shove a hand through the 'wall' of the enclosure. It allows his fingers to pass through, but it's clear that none of the spiders are able to penetrate the partitions.

Caught up in the improbability of the technology, Lance belatedly remembers the figure still standing just out of the corner of his eye, and he jerks his head up to see the person he ungracefully collided with.

Of course it's _Keith_ who's standing there and offering him a hand, because who else could it be? Lance almost doesn't take it out of spite, except he's fucking lying in some kind of experiment involving spiders and, while he isn't necessarily terrified of bugs, there's something to be said about the pleasure of _not_ having them crawl on his fucking skin.

He takes the hand, and is surprised by how strong Keith's grip is as he pulls him out of the exhibit.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Lance asks.

“I should ask you the same thing,” he says, and it sounds offhanded except for the intense glint in Keith's eyes.

“I don't have any spiders on me, do I? _Please_ be a bro and forget our rivalry for a minute to check me?”

“What rivalry?” he hears muttered from behind him, but at least Keith does seem to be inspecting his clothing for any sign of spiders. It stings a bit to hear that Keith apparently doesn't even deem him worthy enough of rivalry, but Lance plows on.

“So,” he says, once he feels comfortable that there are no arachnids skittering across his body. “You go first?”

Keith sighs, as though confessing to nosing around Galra is a fate worth than death. He's quiet for a long time, but Lance gives him the moment (while privately hoping the strange itching across his exposed arms is due to paranoia and not actual spiders moving over his body). “You know about quintessence, right?” he asks, finally.

The word makes him think of what he'd seen, but he swallows it down and nods. “It's an illegal drug on the streets. What of it?”

Keith looks reluctant to tell him, and it isn't like Lance is about to torture the guy for information. He moves a hand to wave it off – and maybe wave off some of the sudden tension that Keith is filling the room with – when he speaks.

“My – friend, he's a cop, and was investigating the drug. Undercover. And now he's gone missing, and Pidge's family is pretty close to him, so I asked her to hack some of his encrypted files to see if there were any clues we could use to locate him.”

So this is why Pidge has been talking to Keith. Lance wonders why her family would be so willing to help him, and who the guy even is, but it's something to think about later.

“So what made you think Galra had anything to do with his... disappearance?”

“The files,” Keith says darkly. “They mentioned a potential link between quintessence and Galra, and it's too likely to go uninvestigated.”

Lance can't help but scowl after hearing Keith's reasoning for snooping around the high-tech lab. Even his _excuses_ beat out Lance's rationalization of, _We wanted to see if there was any crazy cross-breed hybrid experimentation going on._ Keith really does fucking suck.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat and trying to staunchly ignore how irritating Keith's mere existence is. “We should probably – ”

“Oi, this room looks like it's been broken into.”

 _Shit._ The voice comes from right outside the door of the room they're in, and they're obviously in a part of the lab that is unsanctioned for field-tripping. Lance locks eyes with Keith, and even through mutual dislike they reach a clear understanding: they need to hide from the Galra employees, and _fast._

Keith grabs his arm and jerks him toward an inconspicuous-looking door, and it happens too fast for Lance to truly process how the curling of Keith's fingers around his forearm feels before he's being shoved in an enclosed space.

He blinks, and suddenly he's trapped in some sort of storage closet. With Keith.

“This is the most cliché situation I have ever been in,” Lance whispers furiously. The closet is cramped as hell and certainly _not_ made to hide two teenaged boys within its confines, and now that he's acclimating to the situation, it's hot with Keith's body pressing up against his back and huffing hot breaths against his neck, and –

_Oh._

Oh, no.

“Shut up, idiot,” Keith hisses.

He has a scathing remark prepared, really, but it freezes in his throat when a too-warm hand clamps down over his mouth. _Keith's_ hand, to clarify, and Lance really has to focus to avoid instinctively licking the palm enveloping his mouth. Usually, it's a surefire tactic to get Pidge or Hunk to recoil in disgust after trying to forcefully shut him up, but Lance has a sinking feeling that any response Keith would have to being licked on the palm of his hand would a) give them away to the Galra employees moving around _right in front of them,_ and b) end horribly against his favor.

The more he thinks about the situation they're caught up in, the more he wants to squirm. But squirming would be a decidedly Bad Decision, and he tries to think about anything other than the hard lines of Keith's body currently invading his personal space.

He fails, miserably.

Keith seems _fit,_ from what Lance can feel. This close, he can hear the jackhammer beating of his heart - or maybe it's his own, he honestly isn't sure - but it's almost deafening in the otherwise quiet storage closet. 

Lance has never been more thankful to be the one crowded up against the broom closet's door, because if he was in Keith's position then he would have to explain exactly _why_ he's suddenly incredibly hard.

“What the hell d'you think happened in here?” a voice says just outside the door, and Lance freezes. Holds his breath.

“Probably one of those brats from the field trip,” a second voice pipes up, this one higher and more feminine.

“We should alert Haggar, she's not going to be happy about this,” the first voice says.

“You're right. We'll quarantine this wing until all specimens are accounted for. Quickly, now.”

The footsteps fall away, and Lance releases his breath. Behind him, Keith does the same, and they're so close that Lance can feel the exhale and following inhale against his back. When it's quiet outside for a few minutes, like the employees have definitely cleared the room and left, Keith moves his hand away from Lance's mouth, and a sharp, stinging sensation suddenly radiates out from his arm.

“You fucker, did you just _pinch_ me?” he growls, and Keith looks at him bizarrely. (It's a look he's slowly becoming familiar with, much to his chagrin.)

“What are you even talking about?” he asks, voice low as he tries to keep quiet even though they've likely fooled the Galra staff, and Lance can feel his arousal abating. He has to turn a bit awkwardly to open the door, but he definitely needs to escape the closet if Keith is turning into some weird _pinching_ monster, so he tries to maneuver as gracefully as possible to get out.

Keith makes a strangled noise, and Lance turns to eye him before he slips out of the storage closet.

“You okay?” It's only polite to inquire about your possibly choking allies, unwilling as they may be, right?

“Fine.” Keith refuses to meet his eyes, and he shrugs at the clipped response. If Keith wants to pretend he didn't just assault Lance's arm and instead act like there's a stick up his ass (no, fucking idiot, don't think about _your_ stick up his ass) then Lance more than willing to let it go. He's had enough embarrassment for a lifetime, really.

“Let's go back,” Lance offers. “Obviously quintessence has nothing to do with spiders.”

Keith's face darkens at the words, but he nods tersely. They make their way back to the main lobby in awkward silence, and Lance realizes that it's probably the longest they've spent in each other's company.

It isn't until Lance regroups with his class that he thinks about Hunk. _Shit._

Usually, he really isn't a terrible fucking friend, but the whole Keith-making-him-hard-and-then-pinching-him-like-an-asshole thing has him feeling a bit off-kilter, and he heaves an audible sigh of relief as he eyeballs Hunk's large, recognizable frame among their classmates.

Fortunately, they don't seem to have been missed, and they slip back into the crowd undetected. The mark Keith left – it looks kind of like a bug bite, now that he has sunlight to see it a little better – itches, and he scratches at it absently while Sardek – or whatever his name is – glares at all of them and dubiously wishes them a good afternoon.

They file in line to board the bus again, and Lance does his best to ignore Keith as he passes by him. Fortunately, he manages to snag an empty seat, and he all but collapses into it.

“Dude, how'd it go? See anything awesome?” Hunk asks as he slides into the seat next to him. “I tried to warn you, but a group of people were coming down the hallway and I had to bail before they saw me.”

It's a relief to see him, but Lance still shifts uncomfortably. Something doesn't feel quite right, and he swallows thickly. “It was just a room full of spiders,” he says quietly, resting his head against the cool glass of the bus window. “I guess they were kind of awesome, but I'm sure Galra's just doing some silk harvesting or something. Sorry, Hunk.”

Hunk shivers. “Ugh, I'm glad I didn't go in. I hate spiders. Too... crawly.”

Lance offers a nod in return, but his head's starting to pound so he lets his eyes slip closed as the bus starts up.

He feels too hot on the ride back, like his skin's burning up. Idly, he wonders if Keith's pinch is causing him to feel like a veritable garbage can, but that's a weird thought to have at all and anyway he rubs a hand over his arm and it doesn't seem too swollen, so maybe it's unrelated and he's just coming down with the flu or something.

They make it back just after the end of the school day, and it's all he can do to wave a goodbye to Hunk and mask the bizarre shiver that races down his spine with a wavering grin.

The walk home passes in a blur, and the last thing Lance remembers is struggling to get out of his clothes before he collapses on his bed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know that in canon that Lance has a huge family and everything, but for the sake of Spiderman-ifying this, I'm making it just him and his mom live in a shitty housing project, pls forgive.


End file.
